


Stormy Weather

by Ursula



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-20
Updated: 2006-09-20
Packaged: 2019-02-05 14:40:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12796620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ursula/pseuds/Ursula
Summary: Things that were a myth are corrected.





	Stormy Weather

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

  
Author's notes: Found this on my hard drive. Written pre Katrina so forgive the lightness with which the flood was treated.  


* * *

Title: Stormy Weather

 

Author/Pseudonym: Ursula

 

Fandom: X-Files

 

Pairing: Skinner/Krycek and a pair of horny hurricanes named Alex and Walter

 

Rating: NC-17

 

Status: Finished

 

Date Posted: 7-1-04

 

Archive: FHSA 

 

 

E-mail address for feedback: Fan4Richie or Ursula4X@aol.com

 

 

Classification: Fluffy Slash 

 

Series/Sequel: Is this story part of a series: No

 

Web Site: http://www.fhsarchive.com/stories/Ursula.html

 

Disclaimers: No profit, fan fiction for fun

 

 

Notes: Linda, Amazon X, wanted a story featuring Hurricane Alex and Hurricane Walter. These are two of this year’s expected storms. Thanks to Peach and Laura for beta!

 

 

Warnings: Slash Smut Fluff

 

 

Time Frame: Never Never

 

 

Stormy Weather

 

For Linda’s birthday

 

 

“This Russian hurricane spirit is a problem,” Volcanus said, small puffs of smoke emerging from his lips.

 

 

It had come to this, Walter thought. He, who had once been Aeolus and worshipped, was now called by some Slavic familiar name and ruled by a god who was regarded as a mere servant in the classic days. A rumble of thunder sounded as Walter’s displeasure manifested.

 

 

“Walter, please contain yourself,” Volcanus said, “I am trying hard to work with you to resolve our problems.”

 

 

Baldur entered, spotted Volcanus and started to backpedal out of the room. Volcanus pointed at the sun god and said, “You bargained to have him transferred here instead of terminated as scheduled. You should be very grateful to me, Walter. Very grateful, indeed.”

 

 

“So what is the problem with Hurricane Alex,” Walter said. In modern parlance, Alex’s name merely meant that he was one of the first hurricanes scheduled to blow across the United States this year. In fact, when Walter checked the schedule, Alex was due to blow through in a week.

 

 

“He refused to obey orders,” Volcanus replied. “It had something to do with Chernobyl, I have heard.”

 

 

Walter raised his brows, grimaced, and said, “You expect me to work with that?”

 

 

“Oh, come now, Walter,” Volcanus said. “They were mere humans, not our concern.”

 

 

Having no answer to that, Walter straightened his toga and gathered his charts. He said, “We’re finished here.”

 

 

OooOooO

 

Although Hurricane Alex was supposed to meet with Walter immediately, the wind spirit avoided him like the plague. When Hurricane Walter went looking for the Russian wind, Baldur told him that the hurricane had already hit earth.

Well, this young blow-hard was not going to get away with it. Walter might not be the god he had been, but he wasn’t a gentle desert breeze either. His chest swelling with the winds of wrath, Walter was on his way to the planned path of Hurricane Alex.

 

OooOooO

 

There the little air bag was . . .

 

 

His skin was pearly white, befitting his Russian origins. Someone must have mined jade for his eyes. Walter remembered offerings made to him with stone of that color. His body was perfect and beautiful. He glowed with an inner light. Reddish brown hair tumbled toward his ankles. He was naked save a scrap of black leather for his ceremonial throwing knives. A knotted cord served to call attention to the sweet line where stomach met pelvis and dipped to partially cover the large and well-shaped cock and balls below. Hurricane Alex looked fierce, ruthless. The forceful wind of his being blew his hair backwards, the tangled locks alive and glorious.

 

 

The hurricane winds had barely touched the shore, but to Walter's eyes, Alex seemed to be threatening the entire coastline, including several human communities.

 

 

“You asshole,” Walter raged. “What the hell did you do?”

 

 

Rushing against the wind spirit, Walter’s greater might tumbled him backwards, shook him from the sky, sent him spiraling downwards, limbs flailing as he struggled to regain his aerial path.

 

 

Swooping after Alex, Walter struck him again and again, his mighty fists pummeling him with all the frustration of a god that has been forgotten. Somehow it was easier to hate Alex than to deal with Volcanus who had been promoted above Walter though he was more than tainted, an evil god.

 

 

The Russian godling had balls . . .

 

 

Rather big balls as was evident as the leather loin cloth flew up as Alex spun in the ether, his legs wide apart and inviting.

 

 

Maybe what he needed . . .

 

 

Was . . .

 

 

A little domination . . .

 

 

To know who was boss . . .

 

 

Walter caught him by his radiant hair, twisting silken locks about his brutal fist.

 

 

Green eyes opened wide. Pink lips quivered.

 

 

“We’re not even yet, boy,” Walter roared, his breath leveling a mobile home park below.

 

 

Naked feet, pretty naked feet kicked at Walter. Elegant hands pushed him back and Walter, unprepared for resistance, tumbled over and over in the sky.

 

 

Power, awesome power, and the lust that came from nowhere gave force to Walter’s vortex of winds. He filled his chest, his toga slipping away until it clung to Walter’s hips, the fabric barely able to cover Walter’s massive cock and his lusty hips. Diving down, Walter buffeted Alex again.

 

 

OooOooO

 

 

Below . . .

 

 

The forecaster said, “Hurricane Alex, the hurricane that was expected to blow out harmlessly in the ocean, has touched down sporadically along the Florida Coast.”

 

 

In a fishing resort west of Miami . . .

 

 

Didn’t this just beat fuck all? Bad enough that his deep- sea excursion was canceled. Now all the lights had blown out in his hotel. Grumbling, Walter stomped down the stairs like a grizzly bear evicted from his cave and marched up to the man with the yellow rain coat. 

 

 

“I’m Assistant Director Walter Skinner and I want to volunteer for flood detail,” Walter announced. “I understand that the Children’s Hospital is being evacuated and that sandbaggers are needed in the hopes of saving the building.”

 

 

“Yes, thank you,” the man said. “We have some equipment at the door and the van will be leaving in forty-five minutes. It’s kind of you to volunteer. Normally, we are better prepared, but the predictions were sure that Hurricane Alex would blow harmlessly off the coast.”

 

 

“Things named Alex are very unpredictable,” Walter said. “Trust me on that.”

 

 

The man’s eyebrows rose and he stared at Walter as if wondering if he had taken leave of his senses. Hmm, so this is what it felt like to be Mulder.

 

 

“Never mind,” Walter said, “It’s an inside joke."

 

 

OooOooO

 

His newly restored arm ached. Alex grimaced and rubbed it before returning to his work. The oilskins couldn’t keep all the damp out and he was cold. This was some recuperation leave . . . he had asked for tickets to Hawaii, but the ones delivered to him were for this Florida fishing resort.

 

Fishing was neither here nor there for him, but being a pragmatist, Alex had purchased a variety of beach ware, including butt hugging cut-offs, and intended to check out the local talent. He had walked out the door this morning in a tight tank top and leather shorts. It was raining, blustering even. He had turned around and went back to his room to change. Intending to spend the day bar hopping, Alex had put on black jeans that cupped his ass like a lover's hands, a silky black muscle tee shirt, and his best Italian boots. Just as he left the hotel, all the power winked out.

 

 

The taxi driver Alex hired had the news on. They were talking about a children's hospital that had to be evacuated. They needed sand-baggers and a lot of them. He could have stayed out of it, he supposed, but Alex hated to be idle. He needed action. He needed to be part of whatever was going on.

 

 

The taxi driver turned off his meter when Alex said to bring him to the address the radio had announced. His warm handshake and admiring eyes made Alex feel very strange inside. It was like being welcomed back to the human race after a long time spent living like a rat.

 

Outfitted with yellow raingear and a big pair of boots, Alex was soon knee deep in floodwater. He was too stubborn to say quit when other volunteers flagged. Besides, the kids needed that big white building. Alex slung another sandbag on the pile, turned smoothly to get the next, and kept working. 

 

 

OooOooO

 

Walter, the wind god, gasped as Hurricane Alex grabbed for and grasped a handful of his testicles. His scream reached a pitch as high and as manic as all of the maenads. 

 

 

“Let me go!” Walter said, struggling.

 

 

“Not until you promise me to lay off,” Hurricane Alex said.

 

 

“Sure,” Walter cried. “Just let the fuck go.”

 

 

Hurricane Alex smirked, “Ah, gee, just when I was having fun . . .”

 

 

His balls released, Walter tried to collect himself, pulling his toga up and tying it around his waist. What were those human things called? Jockstraps? Now he saw the point.

 

 

“What is your problem?” Hurricane Alex snarled. “I was following instructions, blow along the coast, tip over a few unoccupied ships, and finish with a gust to sea. Then you happened. Look what you are doing!”

 

 

Pissed, Walter tackled Alex again and shoved him seaward. He didn’t buy the god’s story one bit. He knew Alex intended to cut a swathe of damage down the coast . . . after all, Alex was the wind that had blown that radioactive waste all over Russia.

 

 

OooOooO

 

“You look like you’re a strong guy,” the emergency worker said. “You have any problem with taking the front line of the bagging?”

 

 

“No,” Walter said, “I’d prefer it in fact.”

 

 

Taking his place at the front line, Walter worked steadily. It was backbreaking work with the cold water swirling around his feet; the damp heavy sandbags growing more like lead to his tired arms. Every hour they took breaks. It was mandatory, but thirty minutes of rest, a cup of soup, and a stint in the warm lobby was still not enough to replenish the energy that was sapping out of Walter by the moment.

 

 

Sitting next to a man who was lying face down on a mat, Walter briefly studied the man’s ass. It was a very nice ass, round, full, the kind of bottom you could grab with both hands on your way to paradise. He should feel guilty for ogling the sweet ass in the tight-fitting jeans, but the mental activity was warming him. That was worth the guilt.

 

 

What he really needed to do was get laid, Walter decided. He hadn’t let himself go in ages. Forget deep sea fishing, he would prefer trolling for ass over bass. As soon as this hurricane blew over, Walter was going to hit a few clubs and hopefully, one of them would have a guy with an ass like that.

 

 

OooOooO

 

 

Funny thing, Alex felt eyes on him. Eyes on his ass as a matter of fact. Well, well, well, they do say that danger makes you horny. He wished he dared see who was liking the view, but it just wasn’t worth the aggravation of sitting up. He would rather lie here for the rest of his break and fantasize. The guy probably wasn't his type. Alex had in mind someone tall, built, with big brown eyes and hands that could make you feel alive all over. Walter Skinner, for instance, made a great jerk-off fantasy, all the more enticing since Alex could never have him. 

 

 

Spender sunk that ship for him. Making him use the palm pilot on Walter was cruel and unusual punishment. Not one to cry over spilt milk, Alex wiggled his butt a little, perhaps to get comfortable or maybe to give the guy looking a little thrill. 

 

 

Ah, well, nap time, Alex wanted to keep helping and he needed to rest to do that. Forgetting about the man who liked his ass, Alex relaxed and let his mind drift into sleep.

 

OooOooO

 

 

The waves were lapping harder at Walter’s feet. He grunted as something washed up against his legs, nearly knocking him off balance. Someone reached over to steady him. Walter grabbed the arm gratefully and, when he was sure that he wasn’t going to fall in, he glanced over to thank the man. His first impression was of aesthetic pleasure; it was a beautiful face that at first smiled and then dropped its jaw.

 

 

A moment later, Walter slammed his fist into the man’s face. Or he tried to. Krycek caught his hand, twisted, and elegantly dropped Walter into the river. Walter emerged from the river, roaring and spluttering, and jerked Alex off his feet. He did his damn best to drown that rat in human form.

 

 

OooOooO

 

 

Still tired after the brief rest, Alex still wouldn't quit and took his place in the line of volunteers. Gusts of wind and rain whipped through his oilskins. The rhythm of turning, receiving the sandbag, placing it on top of the last, hypnotized him. He was too tired to think, a factor that felt damn good. Alex thought too much, remembered too much, and this weariness of body and not of spirit was welcome.

 

 

They had told Alex that he had done enough, but hadn’t argued when Alex said he wouldn’t feel right about leaving until he knew the hospital was safe. They needed workers. People came out, but it was backbreaking work not glamorous. A taste of the cold, of the sand drifting into your clothing and rubbing you raw, of the ache of arms and the leaden feel of your feet as you humped the next sandbag on top of the barrier sent most volunteers home after a hour or two. By the time they had enough experience to be much good, they were gone. The things Alex was by nature, the things he was trained to be both formally and in the school of hard knocks, were appreciated here. Alex settled the wet sandbag on top of the pile and turned to receive the next one.

 

 

There was a momentary interruption and someone took the place of the man to his right. Visibility was poor and Alex didn’t break his pattern to see who the new man was although he had the impression of someone big and solid.

 

 

A grunt of surprise alerted Alex. Even hours of grueling work could not entirely overwhelm his instincts. Shit, the guy next to him had slipped and a fast burst of water was surging though the incomplete dam. Reaching out, Alex caught a burly arm, braced his legs to take their combined weight, and let the man collect himself. A moment later, he was staring at Walter Skinner’s face, watching recognition turn to rage.

 

 

Blocking a punch, Alex weaved away from Skinner, tripping him as he lunged. Ah, shit! Skinner dragged him down, trying to climb on top of him and hold him under the water. Hands clawing, knee coming up to hit the solid abdomen, Alex knew he was fighting for his life.

 

 

OooOooO

 

 

“There are kids down there,” the Russian wind spirit screamed with the voice of hurricanes rushing across Russian plains. “You’re going to make me kill kids!”

 

 

Freezing in mid-air, Walter, who had once been God of Winds, stared downward, his vision narrowing in focus until he saw two of the boxy vehicles that humans called buses laboring along a road. They were pushed this way and that way by gusts from Alex and not helped at all when Walter raged at the Russian reprobate.

 

 

“You’re just like him!” Alex cried, his voice the shriek of a hurricane.

 

 

“Like whom?” Walter asked, wanting to resume the battle.

 

 

“Like Volcanus!” Alex said.

 

 

“Just a normal windy day, he said,” Alex yelled over the sound of their joined airstreams. “Had I blown in the direction he ordered me to blow, I would have blown the radiation straight into Kiev. I wasn’t even supposed to be a wind god. I’m a fertility deity. I’m supposed to get people knocked up, not kill them. Is it my fault that all my worshippers were slaughtered or enslaved?”

 

 

“You’re a fertility god?” Walter asked.

 

 

“Yeah, look at my dick and balls! Does that look as if it had anything to do with wind?” Alex said, cupping his considerable sized equipment as if offering them.

 

 

“Well, I’m glad you’re not the kind of god that has a huge stomach and ass,” Walter said. “You have a sweet ass.”

 

 

Looking around behind him best as he could to admire his own tush, Alex said, “Yeah, my people always thought that a little cross action was good for the pipes. Used to have a nifty little celebration where everyone grabbed a partner, no gender specifications, and got laid. They were good people until the Mongols pretty much wiped them out. Then Khan liked my looks so he had adopted me as a wind spirit. It sucked, but you know us demi-gods, we have to take work where we can find it.”

 

 

“I was a full member of the pantheon,” Walter announced. He looked down at the buses, which had managed to get to safety in the lull when the two storms finally talked instead of blustered. “But I always liked demi-gods. Interesting. Married a few and kept one as a bed boy until he was promoted to sun god . . . some northern country, mind you. None of the important cultures.”

 

 

“Do you believe me about Chernobyl?” Alex asked.

 

 

Looking into the green eyes of the minor Russian deity, Walter did. He sighed and said, “Volcanus really set us up. He told me you disobeyed orders so I thought you had something to do with the scope of the disaster.”

 

 

By this time, the hurricanes had blown themselves out. They idled about the earth, swirling in lazy patterns. Alex might not be a wind god, but he had some nice moves, dancing in the sky, stretching his long torso, straddling clouds with his long legs. Finally, tired from his work, Alex draped over a particularly fluffy cloud, his beautiful ass propped high in the air.

 

 

Walter dropped down beside the lovely god and stroked along his naked back with gentle fingers. Alex shivered, looked back over his shoulder at Walter and said, “Would you like to make love to me?”

 

 

“Yes,” Walter said.

 

 

“None of that kinky stuff,” Alex said, “in your own form. I’m not into that shape of a bull or swan stuff.”

 

 

“Me neither,” Walter said. “Although I did impregnate a human with a rain of gold forty-eight human years ago.”

 

 

“I’m not into golden showers,” said Alex. “Although I appeared as a rain of jade to a pair of lovers recently. Had 'em both. The kid is my spitting image.”

 

 

There was a brief silence as Walter kissed his way down Alex’s back and found his way between the pale and perfect mounds of flesh. Alex tasted like ambrosia and his moan of delight sounded like a cat’s purr.

 

 

Walter’s toga fell from the clouds and only the vigilant watch by Baldur saved him from an embarrassing incident. Fortunately, Baldur was able to transform the garment into a rain of frogs thus confusing the humans in a manner they had experienced before.

 

 

Needing no oxygen, Walter was able to reach deep and go long . . . sports terms he had learned watching human rites of combat. How lovely to make the Russian demi-god squirm and arch his ass high for more! Walter stroked the soft cheeks that offered themselves to him and teased a finger inside. As frosty as Alex looked on the outside, he was warm, soft, and inviting on the inside. Walter hadn’t been so turned on since he accidentally sat on some of Eros’ arrows.

 

 

“That’s good,” Alex said. “Hmm, hey, I see my kid down there in the river.”

 

 

“Tell him not to look,” Walter advised. “You’re going to be busy.”

 

 

“I think he’s occupied,” Alex said. A deep groan followed as Walter managed to hit the right spot. “Oh, you’re a god!” Alex muttered.

 

 

Obviously, Walter thought, but said nothing, as he didn’t want to spoil the mood. “I’m ready,” Alex said.

 

 

“I don’t just blow over that easily,” Walter said. “When I’m done with you, you won’t have the energy to power a dust devil.”

 

 

“Sounds nice,” Alex said, arching his ass up for more attention.

 

 

After teasing the beautiful Russian wind god . . . fertility god . . . whatever the hell he was . . . Walter sprawled on the cloud and pulled him on top. 

 

 

Alex grinned down at him puckishly as he settled on Walter’s cock. Ah to be a god! The warm heat fit him like a glove and, as Alex started to bounce on his cock, Walter moaned in pleasure. Walter thrust upward, never closing his eyes as he took in the straining torso, the sweat anointing the pearly flesh, and the long hair flowing around Alex with the winds of his being. Their perspiration fell below, anointing a peculiar couple.

 

 

OooOooO

 

 

“All you need is love, love, love,” Alex suddenly heard in his head as a very warm splatter of rain hit him directly in the face.

 

 

'Yeah, right. Sing it, John, but don’t expect me to buy the bullshit.' 

 

Alex backed out of the water when Walter didn’t come back at him after he escaped. That knee in Walter’s groin had been very effective.

 

 

Groaning and sputtering, Walter at last emerged further out in the river that had overflowed its banks. The globs of warm rain must have been hitting him as well. He looked up stunned as a large, round wet thing broke over his face. He stared at Alex as if somehow he was to blame. 

 

 

At first, Alex had his usual reaction. Piss on him. I didn’t do it. It’s not MY fault.

 

 

Walter lost his balance and tumbled into the water. He seemed to be flailing away and unable to get back to his feet. 

 

 

It was none of Alex’s affair. Let the fucker drown. So why did something in him yearn to go and help Skinner? Must be some kind of death wish.

 

 

It was screaming at him now. It was as if he was compelled by an evil demon. Well, never let it be said that Alex Krycek ignored a wicked desire . . . and this one was strangely compelling. 

 

 

Where the fuck was Walter?

 

 

Diving into the water, Alex could not see. It was so dark. Oil dark. Could Oiliens move in the water? Alex wanted to scream at the thought, but he held his shit together and kept feeling about until he found a sodden limb. Reaching downward, Alex followed the arm until he found the burly neck. Grabbing it with his left arm, the somewhat weaker one, Alex paddled for the surface. Up, up, and through the cold water until he felt hands helping him.

 

 

Nevertheless, Alex continued to hold onto Walter until they reached dry land. He wasn’t sure if Walter was breathing so he administered artificial respiration . . .

 

 

Hmm, Walter was breathing. Breathing hard . . . his hands groping Alex in what seemed to be a pretty specifically sexual pattern for an unconscious man.

 

 

“Sir, he is breathing,” a voice said. “Do you wish to press assault charges?”

 

 

Did he? Alex thought about it. No, that tongue in his mouth could be put to other uses.

 

 

“It was a misunderstanding,” Alex said, disengaging from his life-saving activities. “He thought I was a criminal.”

 

 

“That was not very appropriate law enforcement techniques,” the police officer that belonged to the voice said.

 

 

“I’ll give him some pointers,” Alex promised.

 

 

By this time, Walter had sat up and seemed to be feeling some very complex emotions. He glanced at Alex and said, “You saved me.”

 

 

“A guy has those little moments he regrets later,” Alex said.

 

 

“Power seems to be on over at the west side,” Walter commented.

 

 

“Great, my hotel is on the east side,” Alex replied.

 

 

“Mine is west,” Walter said. “I owe you a chance to warm up at least.”

 

 

Normally, Alex would have been concerned about the invitation being an opportunity to finish the job of killing him, but warm, dry, and maybe a nice shower to remove the grit from his long sojourn of sand-bagging sounded damn good.

 

 

“You have wheels?” Alex asked.

 

 

“Of a sort,” Walter replied, his voice sounding odd.

 

 

“You do or you don’t?” Alex asked.

 

 

“Yugo,” Walter answered.

 

 

“I’m trying to figure out how we’re going to go,” Alex shot back.

 

 

“It’s a Yugo,” Walter said, sounding miserable. “It was the only rental left . . . either that or it’s one of Mulder’s practical jokes.”

 

 

“Shit, can’t be too many of those left,” Alex said. “Well, let’s go. Yugo. Whatever.”

 

 

OooOooO

 

A deep chuckle announced that Hurricane Walter’s post coital bliss was over. He leaned over the cloud and pointed downward. “Look, our kids are the spitting image of us.”

 

 

“I have a nicer ass,” Hurricane Alex said. “But for a human, he’s okay.”

 

 

“Looks as if they got a little of our love juice on them,” Hurricane Walter said.

 

 

“I was a fertility god,” Hurricane Alex said. “and a god of love as my original people were frugal and didn’t want to put up statues of two gods where one would do. They say when my come fell to earth that anyone it touched would fall in love. This should be interesting."

 

 

“I would have liked your people,” Hurricane Walter said. “Sensible.”

 

 

“I was a happy god,” Hurricane Alex mused. “Being a wind is okay, but a hurricane? I don’t like it. I’m creative, not destructive.”

 

 

“If I get the promotion I’m hoping for,” Hurricane Walter said. “I’ll get you back in the love division. There’s this opening in the hedge and hearth division due to the number of gay marriages. Interested in being the god of gay marriage?”

 

 

“Oh, yeah,” Hurricane Alex said. “I am.” 

 

 

“I think, if you spill the beans about what your orders were at Chernobyl, that Volcanus is going to be demoted down to dust devil on a play ground,” Hurricane Walter declared.

 

 

“I’ll sing like a bird,” Hurricane Alex said. “Like a Greek chorus, like a . . .”

 

 

“Thanks, I get it,” Hurricane Walter said. “Feel like making a little more purple rain with me first?”

 

 

For answer, Hurricane Alex pounced, knocking the wind out of Hurricane Walter.

 

 

OooOooO

 

“In a weather pattern that was unusual to say the least,” the radio announced. “Hurricane Alex was joined by a hurricane expected late this summer, Hurricane Walter. The combined force of their winds may have proven devastating, but unexpectedly they turned and merged. The penetration of Hurricane Walter deep into Hurricane Alex immediately caused a calming effect.”

 

 

“I’ve never thought of weather reports as sexy before,” Alex said. He reached over and put his hand on Walter's knee.

 

 

"Strange that they have our names," Walter said. "and now they've brought us together."

 

 

Alex thought it was odd that Walter Skinner had such an abrupt change of heart, but he wasn't going to question a gift from the gods. He let his hand slide further up that well-muscled leg to the muscle he found most interesting. 

Walter groaned and his foot pressed the pedal of the Yugo to the metal, resulting in a hiccupping burst of what might pass for speed.

 

 

The elevator to Walter's room was empty. Nice. Walter pushed him to the wall, hands all over him, mouth devouring his, and hard erection pressed to his equally engorged cock.

 

 

If the elevator didn't hit the landing when it did, Alex was reasonably sure that Walter would have done him right there, pressed against the wall. As it was, Alex's designer clothing, much worse for the wear from a day that was spent sandbagging, was strewn across the floor from the door to the bed.

 

 

A few moments of intense groping, combined with brushing away grains of sand, and they were more than eager for the main event. There was no way that Alex didn't want that big cock in his ass. 

 

 

"Ride me," Walter said, "Ride my cock." A huge smile matched the equally large hard-on he steadied with his hand.

 

 

Oh yeah, gimme that, Alex thought, as he fitted himself onto the thick length. Walter was staring into his eyes as Alex rode him, his eyes expressing his pleasure and something more.

 

 

"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," Walter said.

 

 

Hmm, well, as Alex knew, your ass around his dick influenced a guy's eyesight.

 

 

"I mean it," Walter said, "I always thought so."

 

 

Walter's hands pulled Alex down for a kiss, bending him nearly double. The day's discomforts were forgotten for the moment.

 

 

"Just a little more for me," Alex begged, seeing that expression both tense and blissful appear on Walter's face. "Don't shoot yet, lover. Give me what I need."

 

 

Those big hips arched and thrust, gravity be damned. Alex closed his eyes, moaning in a litany of lust. Faster, his ass riding Walter to completion, his hand on his cock keeping time. His come splattered over Walter's chest as he felt the hot surge in his ass.

 

 

Oh, man, too good for just this one time, Alex sighed as they tumbled to sprawl entangled.

 

 

Walter looked at Alex with those big brown eyes and said, "You're a keeper, Alex. Come home with me."

 

 

A thousand objections surged through Alex, but his mouth was the smartest thing about him. He heard himself say, "Yes, oh, yes."

 

 

What the hell, Alex thought. This all seemed fated.

 

 

OooOooO

 

 

Mulder had a strange smile on his face in his basement office, Scully noted. Hmm, not porn exactly. There were little animated people on his computer monitor.

 

 

Thinking she recognized the program from the weekend spent with her brother and his preadolescent children, Scully said, "Mulder? I didn't know you played the Sims."

 

 

"The Sims? Oh, well, not exactly," Mulder chirped. "This is something a hacker friend made for me."

 

 

"Langly? Frohike? Byers?" Scully asked.

 

 

"No, a guy named Prometheus," Mulder answered. "It's called Deux Ex Machina. It's an excellent program."

 

 

Moving closer, Scully pointed and asked, "Why do those characters look so much like Skinner and Krycek?"

 

 

"Just because," Mulder replied.

 

 

"And why are they in bed together?" Scully said, her brow rising.

 

 

"Why not?" Mulder said. "Aren't they hot together? You know Alex has been a very good little boy lately and Walter needs some stress relief. It just so happens I did some hacking of my own with their tickets. I imagine that my careful planning is coming to a fruitful end right about now."

 

 

"Sometimes I wonder about you, Mulder," Scully remarked. She looked around and asked, "Why is it so bright in here? I can never figure that out since we moved back to the basement. It used to be so dark and now it's always sunlit. Very strange."

 

 

"Must be an X-File, Scully," Mulder said.

 

 

An IM flashed across the screen . . .

 

 

"Mission accomplished, Baldur," the message said. It was from someone by the name of Prometheus.

 

 

"All's well, that ends well," Mulder said. He stood up, stretched, and walked out of the office, the sunlight following him everywhere he went.

 

 

The end


End file.
